


Sometimes

by writingfromthevoid (luciferxrising)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Hawke's gender is not specified, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Post-Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 17:46:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6668302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferxrising/pseuds/writingfromthevoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, they just need to step back, and breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes

They settle into a rhythm as easy as breathing. And breathing is not always easy. Sometimes it catches, and one lashes out at the other, and sometimes it's stifling, constricting around them when all they need is space. But it's good, most of the time.

Filling in the cracks of a broken home.

The warrior has to adjust to the constant presence of magic around him, sometimes. It was normal to him in battle, to account for a firestorm obscuring his vision as he charged into the fray, to count on lime-green tendrils of magic patching up the ugly tear in his arm. It's everywhere now. Neither of them bothers to light the fire by normal means, and he still flinches each time the waves of magic get thrown around carelessly for such mundane needs. But he adjusts.

He has to. He wouldn't give his mages up for the world.

They have to buy a second bed, for while being curled up to each other in a small space is nice sometimes, when they all seek for the warmth of each other's body, at other times they all need some personal space. That, and the nights in the Free Marches can become unbearably hot in the warmer seasons.

They don't question when one of them gets out to sleep on the couch instead. None of them are fully whole anymore. They all need their time alone. They all need room to breathe.  
The healer still struggles for control, sometimes. It feels like drowning, when he does, gasping for air, being pushed under by waves of righteous fury. Sometimes, a calming hand, a soft word, is enough to bring him back.

Sometimes it is not, and he surfaces with new wounds, on his body as well as his soul. He can feel the guilty stare of his partners bore into his back. He hurts.

Magic isn't the cure to everything. He knows that. They all do. It makes the physical pain less, it alleviates wounds so they can fight another day, but it is no remedy for the mental hurt. He wishes it was, sometimes. Wishes he could wisk away his hurting, conjure a balm for the damage done to his soul.

Nothing is ever that easy, of course. He just has to remind himself of it, sometimes.

The champion keeps trying to fix things, and it hurts, sometimes. It was their life for the longest time, soothing the troubles of everyday citizens, and some days the others have to grasp their shoulders, restrain them, tell them it's okay, they don't need to fix everything. The world is broken, but so are they.

And they're more important, they have to be, even if it doesn't feel like it, sometimes.

Sometimes, they just need to step back, and breathe.


End file.
